the 68th hunger games
by nat-lie
Summary: Hazel is a quiet, empathetic girl thrust into the world of the Hunger Games. Reader is put into her complex mind as she is put through horrifying moral dilemmas. She decides with emotions, which cause her mistakes and losses.


**2 hours before the Reaping- 9:00am**

Obligation is what woke me up in the morning. In my soul I felt it. I needed to see him before I went. That is why I wiped sleep from my eyes and dressed myself. The household is quiet as it usually was every year on this day. It was a grim day. No one wanted to talk about our horrible reality. I passed by my eldest brother Damiyen, who normally wore a smile when we greeted each other in the morning. I didn't blame him for his silence today, however. The Reaping was a tense subject. I merely gave him a silent nod before leaving the house, and somehow that was enough.

My teeth sunk into the crisp apple I grabbed as my breakfast as I walked down the dirt path. Seeing how my family relied heavily on the beach for a small but steady income, we couldn't afford to live far from it. It's a short trip. We were lucky that we even had the beach, honestly. The shore and the water was everything to me and my family. The beach used to be a huge Capitol tourist trap a couple years back, full of noisy people who couldn't seem to find a trash can to save their pathetic lives. In fact, it got so polluted from the tourists that one day they decided it wasn't up to their standards anymore and just left. They left us to deal with the mess they had made of the once-beautiful beach. The only other close beach to us was about an hour and a half away. We needed to clean it up. Luckily, our neighbors pitched in and everyone came together to repair the damage that had been done. The beach is fine now, but even I still hold a grudge against those who ruined the beauty of the shore.

Ethan doesn't seem to see me when first my feet hit crunching sand. Sometimes I feel like he purposefully acts as if I'm not there. He just wants to be alone sometimes, but I'm scared to what might happen if he actually was alone. He needs someone here with him, and I'm more than happy to be that someone.

As to hopefully gain a reaction, I softly say, "Hey," and sit down next to him, hugging my knees to my chest. His gaze flickers to my face. I smile slightly at this.

"Happy Hunger Games," He finally says. The words he says next are full of bitterness. "May the Odds be ever in your favor."

I nod, pursing my lips. "You okay?"

"I hate when you ask me that. You ask me every year."

"Well, you never tell me the truth when I ask."

"You wouldn't like the truth."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't hear it."

You see, there was a reason Ethan despised this day so much. Two years ago, his older brother Ashton was Reaped for the 66th Hunger Games. Ethan was just fifteen then, and I was fourteen. That was the day Ethan changed. He went completely blank to the world, staring out at the ocean for hours, unwilling to talk to anyone. He wouldn't talk to his parents or even me. I had been raised alongside Ethan for my whole life, I didn't connect with anyone as well as him. It broke my heart to see him hurting so much. I remember watching the television sets with Ethan, anxious for updates on how Ashton was doing in the Capitol. I remember the scream when Ashton began his games and suffered a large gash in his arm the first day at the Cornucopia. I remember how hard Ethan clenched my hand when watching his brother manage to run away the first day. Ashton's arm ended up getting infected, and that infection took his life on just the third day. Ethan was no longer silent. No, once his brother died, that changed. His temper became explosive and irritable. He lashed out, harming his loved ones both physically and emotionally. I can still hear his screams and the cruel words he said to me in the back of my mind. His mother and father dealt with their grief differently. His mother busied herself in her sewing and weaving, barely speaking a word for the first year. His father, on the other hand, took a more physical solution. Ethan would often appear to school with black eyes and bruises covering his arms. He always had an excuse unrelated to his father. I was the only one who knew. Ethan didn't want me saying anything because he often remarked that he was mouthing off previously and "deserved it". I kept silent, and as time passed, so did the bruises. No new ones had formed since.

Ethan had since then gotten better. He talked more. His temper wasn't as mad, but he remained cynical towards the Capitol. Our friendship recovered. I never gave up on him. He was always like this on Reaping Day, though, no way to change or avoid that.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it, okay?" Ethan replies after a long while of looking down at his feet and fidgeting with his shirtsleeve. "I just get anxious today, you know that."

"Yeah, I know." I say, and suddenly remember something. "I brought you some breakfast, hope you didn't eat already."

He shakes his head. "My appetite is never good today either."

"Well, here's some bread. I advise you eat some." I rip off some of the loaf and place it in his hands. "Have you got a nice outfit all laid out for this morning?"

He rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, actually. I'm gonna be the best looking tribute there ever was when they call me up."

"Oh shush, you know you won't be called up."

"Even if I did, some bone-headed Career would probably volunteer."

"Maybe. I wish we lived in Districts One or Two, where every year there are two Careers that volunteer." Here in District Four, Careers aren't uncommon, but they definitely don't occur every year.

"Me too," Ethan says, and then a faint trace of a smirk appears on his lips. "Hey, are _you_ going to wear a pretty dress?"

I mock Ethan when I say haughtily, "I'm gonna be the best looking tribute there ever was!"

"I do like seeing you all prettied up though. At least that's a good thing about this day."

"Ha, I bet."

Suddenly, Ethan stands. He reaches his hands above his head, stretching them. And then he walks to the water and dips his feet in.

"How's the water?" I ask.

"Freezing." He calls back. "You should come in."

"My mother would kill me if I got my hair ruined with saltwater on this day."

"Wouldn't want to look bad for the whole nation, would you?"

"Speaking of which, we should probably be getting back now to get ready."

Ethan groans at this.

"Look, if you want to look bad for the entire Capitol, be my gue- What are you doing?!"

He's in the water now, he just jumped in. His head emerges seconds after, his blond hair soaked and clinging to his head. Seeing the scowl on my face only makes him smile. That's the first and probably the only smile I'll get from him today.

I shake my head. "I'm going back to get ready." I say, then turn and begin to walk away.

"Wait!" Ethan's voice makes me turn back around.

He's running out of the water now, water droplets gleaming all around him. His strong arms wrap around me, enveloping me into a tight hug. I'm shocked. A sign of any affection at all was rare for Ethan. I tentatively hug him back. I can't describe this feeling into words very well. It was as if I was so scared this would be the last time he held me like this. I bury my face into his shoulders as he pets my hair. It was as if I gave into this pleasure, I'd start expecting more actions like this out of Ethan, and I knew very well that those chances were slim. We embrace for a long, peaceful moment. I wish it could stay like this forever, but a voice in the back of my mind tells me to stop thinking so stupid. Another voice tells me to enjoy this.

Eventually, his arms loosen and we pull apart slowly. He looks in my eyes. I don't know what to say. His breathing grows heavier with anxiety, and instead of saying anything, his lips meet my forehead.

"I'll see you later, okay?" He says, squeezing my arm one last time in reassurance.

"Okay," I say softly, before leaving the beach. I wasn't sure I believed him.


End file.
